Borders blessed

 No doubts about the theme today. Yes, You guessed it right. It is the World Maritime Day today. Talking a little about that vast limitless deep expanse that makes the most of the earth is the infinite topic we discuss today.

The sea! Apparently the land/sea ratio on our earth is 30:70. In other words, the sea covers the Major Part  of the earth and its surface. Marine life, moreover, was where Life, as we understand it today, began. It is indeed fabulous hence reading up anthropology and ecology  No wonder, the existence of marine life is what the space ships are trained to look for.

Incidentally, we know much more about the space than we are aware of the mysteries of the seven seas, our immediate and constant companions. Oh, yes, I have chosen the word 'companion' knowingly because in our childhood, Aai-Papa saw to it that the "Seven Seas" tablets were our best buddies.

The sea! It is a friend near the shore. The soft, scintillating  sands shifting under the feet, the shimmery shades of the not so deep water, the treasures the flow would throw at your feet, the gentle breeze in the mornings and the evenings, and the best of all, the superb Siren Song of the Sea, near the shore, the sea is Picture Perfect, what with the silhouette of the boat masts against the vast expanse of the horizon.

That very gentleness is fierce fury in deep seas. "Roll on, Thou", that Byron ditty, would be a terror at the distance of some five miles away from the shores. The terrible storms that rage there are indeed stomach churning. The " Jal"/water and "Wayu"/wind, the most indomitable of the " panch  mahabhutas", have their free rein and unfettered kingdom there. Hence, despite the colonial cruelties they brought in their wake, Megallan, Colombus and Vasco de Gama and others of their ilk are indeed heroes, the way they conquered the high seas, battered the borders, and with such  primary tools!

As a student of literature, with Coleridge's Ancient Mariner  and Melville's Billy Budd and Captain Ahab as the guides, the seas become the best/blessed borders to 'navigate' the depths of depravity and to scale the heights of human(e) values.

When  your brother is a shippie though, the sea is a mystery shrouded in terror. In the 80's, at the height of Raju's seafaring days, I knew the sea routes almost like the lines on my palms. Looking up world atlases was  one of my hobbies then! 

For Aai-Papa though, the terrible and constant tension was palpable. Mobiles werewolf not available then. Till he reached the next port and called up, prayer was the only solution. They used to wait for his letters as if his words were the very world. In Aai's opinion, the worst of the five mega principles were"jal" and "vayu", and her favourite most child would be in the throes of these two terrors. I can imagine though cannot fully fathom her anxiety as vast as the deepest ocean. Borders blessed it used to be each time when he landed ashore!

Pratima@ the sea scenes seen/to heaven-n-hell thou hath been!

Wonders never cease

 The Other Day I saw a lovely video. On the Youtube, I suppose. It dealt with a Butterfly with a Broken Wing. A lady adopted him, made him a wing of feather, and gave him a new lease of life, the life he was made for, not the one that was forced on him by circumstances. 

I loved the highly inspirational story. That is why have called the butterfly "he". With little help and kindness, he chose to fly back which must have been very difficult for him. Luckily he just had a broken wing, not a broken will.

The other day I read the story of a girl who lost her legs to an accident. Despite a Himalaya of difficulties right under her nose, she proved her mettle by completing her M.D.

That is the spirit.  Life is going to throw all sorts of ugly surprises at us; at times, rather viciously, one after another. When the going gets tough, the tough get going, they say, and it indeed holds true.

Wallowing in self pity is just going to increase our problems, especially psychological. Instead being strong is the solution. Every situation teaches us something or the other. Life is a total sum, full of many deductions. Changing them in to a complete integer is our skill. So, ahoy, afloat, and akimbo. The swim against the tide makes the great distance a challenge that is  never ever over.

Pratima@ hope is eternal, misfortune brittle

Brief but deep

 Have you ever played the game of imagining shapes in clouds? I like to thus be on cloud one to nine at times, as I am at the same time in/on/with all the clouds, and I am de-signing them meaningfully, too.

 It is fun, believe me. The clouds as mass move hither and thither, and one has to just give a free rein to one's imagination and creativity, and, voila, lovely shapes form and fritter to re-assemble in newer and lovelier images.

I love this game for its imaginative creativity.  I like it still more because it can be a perfect mirror to your mind, your thought processes, the calm, serene cleanliness there that wishes the best for the people you truly care for.

It makes me realise as well the fleeting fancy and flimsy fantasy that life is. Now here and next moment not there, as Aai's heart attack viciously made me realise the transience of life,  I have yet again understood the need, nay, the craving to carve something meaningful, beautiful and mature out of life, that material thin as air and fleet foot with its buddy, the t(r)ail tale time!Let me try my best, and once I am it it, I shall religiously make it come to fruition, I have now told myself for sure.

Pratima@ remember Shakespeare on imagination compact?

Mother-in-law matters

As much as I love writing the blog posts, I have suddenly realised that they are very serious. Neither I nor Aai-Papa have been people with long faces. Both of them loved a laugh, moreover. So today let us do with a few mother-in-law jokes to lift up the spirit, so to say. 

In the English context, the mother-in-law jokes are always about the suffering son-in-law. So a few of the less quoted mocks at the relationship for a day's amusement, though without malice against any woman.

One such `son' had a great explanation for the bad climate and the tornadoes issuing from the west coast. "My mother-in-law is vacationing there for the last few days," said the `concerned'  'hombre' with a deadpan face.

 Now look at this exchange. Paul tells David, "My mother-in-law is an angel." "Lucky you, " sighs David, "Mine is still alive."

The next one is real mischievous. "What is the punishment for bigamy?" Pat comes the answer, "Worse than the electric chair. Two mothers-in-law." 

Still more rougish is the next one. An irritated son-in-law threw his mom-in-law in the lions' den. The case against him by the "Cruelty against Animals" groups is never-ending, it seems.

Let us end with this real gem of a quirky crack. At the funeral office, the son-in-law was asked, "What shall we order for your mother-in-law? Cremation or burial ?" Replied he rather dutifully, "Why take chances? Order both."

pratima @ At times laughter takes away the tension  

Dear Daughter

September 26, it is today. Exactly six months ago, Aai succumbed to an early morning heart attack. Every second of that fateful day continues to gnaw at the conscious, subconscious, all possible, levels of my mind. Though time flies at a supersonic speed, literally there has not been a second since, when she has not been around in the form of her constant memories.   

May be, because she had become so much of an integral part of my life for the last sixteen years and a half that it is now getting difficult to believe that she is not there. Since July 24, 2005, she has been there with me twenty four by seven. Earlier, when she could, she used to go to Raju's place for Gauri-Ganapati and to Sanju's for Diwali. Of late, that was not possible for her.

In fact, after she turned seventy-five, slowly but surely, her health started declining by the day. Often she had bouts of syncope or a minor transient ischemic feel. She would get back in a few minutes. But it must have pained her vastly inside, within her system.

Despite that. from March, 2014 to March, 2015, every Pournima/full moon day, she would see the moon as part of the sahastra chandra darshan. She continued it as much as possible in 2016 as well. But I admire her consistency and determination about it. In a way, I find it amazing that she was born on March 19, and passed away on March 26, or to put it the lunar month way, she was born on the Holi Pournima, and succumbed to  a heart attack just a few days before it. Given the systematic, disciplined person she was, there has to be a meaning to it.

After 2010, she was more my daughter than the other way round.  Literally, I have brushed her teeth, bathed her, cleaned her, fed her, everything a mother physically does for a baby, except that I could not lift her, and hold her like a baby in my arms. Why, I had to scold and discipline her, too, if she behaved like a stubborn kid!

And this daughter of mine was wonderful. Even at that age, she had  a very structured day. She used to spend her day in wholesome activites. Never did she watch the meaningless serials mindlessly. She chatted, read her books, listened to songs, drew pictures as long as she could. Newspaper crossword riddles were her special favourite. The Covid Year pulled her down. She became listless, could not hear or see properly. She did  not at all like the nasal feed since Januuary, 2021. Yet, her mind was sharp till the end, though she could not talk much, nor was she able to move herself from one side to the other easily. Her spirit was not diminished, but her body weakened by the day, what with decades old diabetes, hyper-tension and arthritis.

She had a thousand sterling qualities of head, heart and soul. Like Papa. And I am not saying it as a dutiful daughter, believe me. She was feisty, witty, sharp and intelligent, full of laughter and joy. She would never bitch about others. She hated injustice. She was compassionate and kind. She was hyper-sensitive. So she might appear a little senti and proud. But actually she was very just and considerate. Most of these qualities, she shared with Papa, too. 

So, on this World Daughters Day, let me wish that this mother-turned-daughter of mine continues to enjoy the sepreme peace that she has attained after a very meaningful life lived with dignity.

pratima@ If daughters are God's gift, a mother-turned-daughter is a bliss!   

Helpful Always!

 When you have an aging parent to look after, you can never guess, though you would ever be grateful to it, where which help could come how. The family pharmacist is one such, and huge, help.

An elderly person requires all sorts of medicines, for lifetime diseases, such as diabetes and blood pressure, for local aches to itches. You need proleptic drugs, you need pain killers, the ointments and oils, the tonics and vitamin tablets. And how can you forget the medical instruments beginning with the digital thermometer, the b.p. machine, the diabetes strips, the works. The family pharmacist would procur anything for her within a day tops.

That was our relationship with our pharmacist, M/S Rathod Chemists. Pritam Bhai would come without a grumble, and  help me lift her up, whenever she had a small little fall.  Why, as usual, I had gotten the monthly medicines from the Rathod shop exactly six unhappy months ago. How was I to know that they would of no use the very next day?

Getting Aai's death certificate from Dr. Khare was his last reaching out to her. She,too, would always enquire after his well being, after his daughter. Why, she had insisted on a wedding gift to him. There was a warm bond between them both.

Hence, today, on the occasion of the World Pharmacist Day, let me take this opportunity and thank him for being helpful always. Thanks, indeed!

Pratima@ patient help!

A unique remembrance

 Both of them, Aai and Papa, liked it that I could manage Foreign Languages. In fact, I tried teaching Spanish to Aai. Do not remember why the project fizzled out. Thought about it because of the Hispanic Heritage Month Celebration in the U.S.

The celebrations start on Sept 15 as that is the Day when many Latino countries celebrate their Independence Day. The U.S.  dream has allured truckloads of the immigrants from the South American/Latino countries. The vibrancy of their existence was apparent during Mr. Barack Obama's presidency. In fact, they were one of his major, reliable vote bank.

Just as the Latino identity proves the inclusive nature of the American dream, their rich though chequered past indeed deserves a mention. The Latino heritage, dating back to the pre-colonial era, is a wonderful throw back to the ancient Mayan and Colombian civilisation, rich in texture and creativity. The likes of Macchu Picchu are rare indeed. The ruins, despite the colonial destruction, are magnificent.

A great tribute to human creativity and a grim warning against the colonial excesses, the month from September 15 to October 15 is indeed necessary to celebrate the inclusive quality of the project called democracy. Viva! (=long live),  as they would say in Spanish, the second language in the U.S., and the second most spoken language in the whole world. 

Pratima@ a los hombres sinceros de todo el mundo!

The Rose Day

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," says Shakespeare's most romantic heroine, Juliet. This testimony of hers quoted umpteen times is some proof of the innate power of the flower. This flower power comes from the beauty of the rose. Be it the bud, the bloom or the blown stage, a rose is a rose is a rose. 

Circa the Valentine day, or rather the entire week, roses are the pride of the market. Personally, I do not exactly like those cut roses. I prefer the Indian or the desi variety more, given its light pink colour, its gentle sweet smell, its baby soft texture. The entire ensemble in its supreme simplicity is more appealing than the plastic perfection of the cut roses. They are, moreover, easy to grow, they bloom year long on the delicate vine, and when they have almost run the course of their brief life, you can very easily make them last forever as the gulkand.

You may wonder at this paean dedicated to the much loved flower. Well, the occasion behind this panegyric is the fact that September 22 was the World Rose Day. With a motto "Love Care Concern", it is observed the world over to cajole all the cancer patients that the dreaded disease is not the end of the world. Rather, it is possible to face it with spirit and strong will power. In other words, this logo provides succour to the patients, and raises awareness about it among the populace. Given the severity of the disease, what a beautiful thought indeed! Hats off to whosoever thought of such flower power!

Cancer, as I realised while researching for my articles in the New Indian Express, Hyderabad, is indeed a dragon when it hits children. Two incidents have permanently lodged themselves in my memory. The first one was with a six year old Sikh kid who was playing away to glory, absolutely unfettered by the cruel cancer. His brave family was also letting him be even when they knew that the inevitable would be just round the corner. Though I marvelled at their courage while I interviewed them, in my stomach, there was a pit of the size and ancestry of the Lonar lake  . 

The only other time I have felt so helpless as a freelance journalist was  when an autistic girl held  my hand with tremendous love and without any guile whatsoever. That article, too, stayed with me much much longer than its publication. Yet another such disturbing research etched on my mind was when I visited the government mental hospital to write two articles on `psychiatry and women'. That site/sight worse than any hell and the teary eyes of an old relative haunt me still. Nor can I forget the old guard requesting me not even to see the horrific terror, warning me to be very careful.

Let me end the blog today with the second incident about children and cancer. Well, I write each one of my articles with lot of responsible research. I had to hence meet an oncologist at Apollo. I was waiting at the foyer of her office for my appointment. There was this mother whose six month old baby was diagnosed with ocular/eye cancer. The couple, obviously from a rural poor family, was ill at ease with the glossy surroundings. I tried with my broken Telugu to put the young mother at ease. Mostly, I used the language of smiles. Well, I had gone there after a morning full of my Ph. D. studies. I had to travel in a packed to capacity bus to the other end of the city. May be, I must have looked real tired. The young mother of the  ailing baby was absolutely convinced that I am a late stage cancer patient as well. Why and how would she know journalism and its woes? So she would steal at me a glance full of pity and concern, her eyes would fill with tears. While I was trying to commiserate with her, what filled me with wonder was her empathy for a young girl her age whom she thought to be a lonely cancer patient. May be, extremities bring out the best at least in some because this uneducated simple poor rural woman was facing the adversity much much better than other richie-rich grumbling adults whose own life style excesses most probably would have landed them in the cancer swoop.

Given such searing memories, I admire the Rose logo much more than any `Anand' or ` Mili', and pray yet again for the well-being of all the brave ones who do not at all deserve the pain and who brave it with a smile lovelier than any rose.

pratima @ pain is less mightier when penned! 

Fathoming Forgetfulness

Have you seen an Amitabh Bacchan-Rani Mukherjee starrer entitled "Black"? I remember this Bhansali film because it was the first ever mainstream film dealing with the dreaded disease Alzheimer's. Sure the film was populist and melodramatic, but all the attention it could generate toward the impossible psychosoamtic combo called Alzheimer's was indeed desirable.

I mention all these details because September 22 is a day dedicated to   raising awareness about Alzheimer's. This silent but cruel killer destroys the very personality. Thus an image-thief, it is an elder and more destructive sibling of dementia. All these neurological diseases, including the Parkinson's, are the real enemies now because these old age related disabilities destroy a human being, his/her web of relationships in an auto-immune way.

As it is the world is greying fast. Despite India's distinctive demographic dividend, India, too, is aging fast. Given the improved life expetancy, there is a huge number of the elderly. As India's job market is mostly in the unorganised sector, the old are fast being a liability. Given the life style diseases being on the rise, the constant stress, the lack of exercise, the typical old age forgetfulness is no longer a matter of mockery, like the much riled professorial memory. Severe dementia, Alzheimer's are very common now, and mostly among the women.

These ladies, now absolutely out of the production cycle and reproduction systems, have to suffer this undigified disease. Such a patient, difficult to diagnose in the early/onset stages, is a caretake's nightmare, too, especially because there is as yet no effective medicineto cure/control it.

The best way hence to avoid it is to be a good friend, in fact, the best buddy of your own brain, keep it constantly occupied so that constantly new netwoks are formed therein which may control the auto-immune disease, We know more of the space than the sea, but even that knowledge is vaster than our awareness of our own, the very human, brain!

We need to be kind, patient, tolerant towards our elders who once gave their everything for us! The future as it is going to be very difficult, given the digital revolution. In such an onslaught that would reduce economic certainties given the job crunch, our elders would have to be our aged children who are fathoming forgetfulness!

pratima@ the child indeed is the parent of the elderly who have thus lost their very identity

N.B: Papa used to selflessly work for this cause. 

Who is afraid of disbelief?

The title of the blog post today is a word game on the title of a very famous American play. I have chosen this title because today is the anti-superstition day. Superstitions are a universal phenomenon. Every established religion, each organised socio-cultural structure has its own version of superstitions.

If in India it was the milk drinking spree on this very day way back in 1995, it could be a certain number or a particular day in some other country. Colours change their symbolism as per the region or the creed, for instance. Multiple examples thereof can be exponentially provided.

I have always felt that instead of listing the instances, and throwing them at each other in accusation and counter-allegations, it is indeed necessary to explore the why and the how, rather than the infuriating what, of /behind superstitions. 

The obvious materialistic (in all senses of this term) explanation  is that any superstition can be, and is, beneficial to somebody. It literally can be a veritable source of income. It may be an `advantage, individual ' kind of case, too. At times, it is a form of stupid entertainment as well. Remember the childhood ghost stories? If we were to go back to pre-historic times, may be, it could be said that superstitions were born out of either fear or the need to hang together. 

If one had a more poetic, imaginative soul, one could say that the sense of wonder at nature's beneficence could be a source, too. The welcome beauty of a stupendous morning, to give an example, after the darkness of a cave-bound night might have transmogorified the diurnal event in to a godly con-text, with its own attendant rituals, may be. The same could be true of a starlit night bathed in the brilliant moonlight or the grandeur of the milky way  or the dazzle of a shooting star.

Superstitions might create a bonding within a community as well, giving it its own unique identity. The best example thereof could be the rituals dedicated to the local deities.  Such beliefs, however, become a danger when they harm another individual (as in the case of human sacrifice to get wealth or to beget a child) or a community (as in the case of `Sati', may be).

 In a way, market to marriage, each and every human institution is built on  or depends on faith. If such faith hurts, harms another, most often, very much knowingly, it becomes bad faith, even when presented in a very sophisticated way. A crazy example thereof could the need to drink `socially', whatever that is supposed to mean. Multiple such superstitions, even when they are not superficially so, can be listed, pointing actually to moribund relations, to a decadent society, right?

Even an intellectual stance, a critiqueing fashion, too, could be a superstition with its own `bhakta' or devotee following, as the shrewd always know which way their bread is buttered. In academics, for instance, a particular `ism' becomes quite a blind faith , to be followed religiously as it can get you a teaching tenure, a grant, a tour abroad, and so on, not to forget the great opportunity of bad-mouthing the other gang. 

In my opinion, hence, one should approach the theme truly warily, judiciously, unpretentiously, and in a spirit of humility. Even in the field of science, today's truth can be tomorrow's superstition. Remember how nobody really understood the triple dimensions of reality or the exact structure of an atom till Einstein happened?  The moment Einstein emerged, the Newtonian universe was reduced to a blind faith, just as till Galileo proved it to the contrary, the earth was stationary, and the sun and the stars revolved around it!

My self-reflexive response hence to any such debate is " the current paradigms consider it so". Any reactions, please?

pratima@the mind is in its place/ and makes a heaven of hell, and vice versa! 

In Memoriam

I read a rather silly, but simultaneously dark, joke this morning. It was as follows. In Pitru Paksha, you cannot change the party, whosoever might be the leader to whom you otherwise might have been affiliated to, and the only symbol accessible is the crow. Rather wicked and in bad taste is the joke, but it is truthful in a way, too.

Now begins the pitru paksha. It is the period of the year when we remember our near and dear ones, lost now forever. These days, the traditional rituals are mostly not followed. Most often, they may not have much meaning beyond feeding a poor brahmin. 

Instead, it is much better to doante the dakshina to a poor Brahmin whose family could at least use that money to send their children to school or to buy the bare minimum necessities required for a decent enough life.  I suppose the souls of the dear departed would thus rest in real peace than the typical shradha.

That has been the way we have year after year paid obeisance to Papa's memory, every June 21 and for every pitru paksha shradha.  Aai absolutely accepted and adored such a homage to his memory. Never ever did she insist on any ritual. But that was the way they were, modern in moulding the tradition, continuing the good in/of the old ways in modes that were modelled on the contemporary and were relevant currently.

It is so very sad that this pitru paksha I would have to set aside the dakshina for her, too, as the temples are closed. For Papa's sake, she would make me prepare a pure white envelope for the dakshina to be paid on which I had to neatly write each and every detail. Unfortunately, this year I would have to prepare one such envelope in her memory, too. I cannot indeed describe the pain in my heart.

The real in meoriam for her, for him and for both of them would, however, be to to keep their memory alive in each and every way they dreamt for us. Thus alone would past be present in future,

pratima@ nary a good-bye never for you, Aai-Papa. Wherever you are, and sure in bliss, you abide!here! always! for me! For all the three of us!

A brief tribute

 It was the Anant Chaturdashi. The final farewell to Lord Ganesha. The Pune immersion procession is quite an event on this particular day. True, often there are dances that are not exactly holy by any definition. Yet there is a special feel to the procession with the unique traditional dhol-tasha beat, the brilliant (literally with the e(c)lectric tableaux) farewell vehicles, and the spectactors charged with a special zest. Corona took away the sheen, and yet this year the janata chose to crowd the street post Gauri Visarjana. Hope there is not the third wave looming large!

pratima@the end that is forever a beginning

The Ozone Layer

 The Ozone layer is very impotant. It is central to our very existence. It protects all the forms of life on the earth. It filters out the highly dangerous UV/ultraviolet rays radiated by the sun. Otherwise, these fatal rays would have caused skin cancer, worse, would have suppressed our very  immune systems. Eye contaracts could have been yet another prevalent disease. No wonder, a day is marked out, Sept 16 to be precise, as the World Ozone Day. It has a lovely name. It is called the `roof to life'.

Our individual lives have such `roofs to life' as well. They protect us from (e)very evil. But for them, our thin skins would have grown thicker than the cancerous skin. Thus they add sensitivity to our very existence. Our sensibilities, our god given gifts, our vices and our faults would have turned against us viciously, but for them.. Our vision would have been a faulty, tunnel vision if they were not there. They are our real ozone layer and forget a day, every second of our lives blooms because of these` roofs to our lives'. Yes, you have guessed it right. The real ozone layer in our exist-ence are our parents, especially our Aai. Would you agree with this interpratation of mine? Can you interpret/open up this metaphor further?

pratima@our ozone, our oxygen/                                                                          they make us human!

Definitely Democratic

Recently, on fifteenth of September to be precise, it was the international day of democracy. I would like to say that now democracy has really come of age. Let me explain why.  Sure as per the definition by Lincoln, it continues to be of/by/for the people, but in a far more accessible way, is what I feel.

Why do I so argue? The obvious answer is the internet. The access to internet is now universal. At least in India, given the almost free data, most all people have access to the internet. As a result, information is no longer the prerogative of any privilged group. There really is an explosion of information accessible to most all everyone, and apps are appearing by the minute which can make a very creative use of such resources. Information, education, entertainment, mention any field, all is at everybody's fingertips. Sad that not all are using this ocean to navigate well. In fact, such creeps are using it to create new inequalities and injustices.

Yet another reason why the ethos now is more democratic is because relationships have become elastic. In fact, many aspects considered taboo a decade ago are now literally child's play. As a result, newer expotations are emrging, too, In addition, the weave of familial relationships is getting unknit and loosened, and that is creating problems for such vulnrable groups as the children and the elderly.

In such volatile times, the maternal feel, the motherly heart, the paternal support are virtues we need to inculcate and improve in all of us. Otherwise, the democracy as a feel, even as an organisational principle of society would descend in to demogagogy and thus in to ananrchy finally. 

pratima@democracy can be a deity or a demon/                                                   if not properly nurtured benefits none!

The Homely Management Paradigm

Is a management paradigm the monopoly of the B schools? Not really!  Would you agree with me if I were to say that we all have a great management model silently but most efficiently functioning, and right under our nose? Yes, you got it right. Indeed it is provided by our parents, especially by our mothers. 

Yes, the mother of the family is a great management expert. She is excellent at HR. Her communication skills make or mar the family  dynamics. She manages people, time, resources extremely well. At the FMCG, she is an expert. She maintains the cash inflow and outflow so well that no external credit systems are required. She knows how to expand the family means. Her merger techniques are best illustrated in relatives management, especially when it comes to marriages of her children. Of course, this CEO of this enterprise has the full support of her partner, the father of the family.

I could expand the metaphor to further levels/details as well, and ad infinitum. Instead, let me make two observations. The first one is that this paradigm is by no means applicable only to upper middle educated famlies. In fact, both in the lower class as well as amongst the rich, it is the matriarch whose word is the final. Even an abusive husband or in-law's cannot diminish her. My second point is that whether working or a housewife,  a mother has different management styles as well, ranging from the authoritative to the consensual and democratic.

Why is it then that the B-schools that can locate the management style of the Mumbai dabbawala never look at this fabulously functional model so nearer home? Is it because a mother's work is often considered non-productive?  Indeed how to put any valuation on the  love, care and concern of this intrapreneur who often doubles up as an entrepreneur whenever the family may suffer financial/cash inflow issues?

May be, I should ask my management students to explore this paradigm as a possible research theme. A more focussed analysis could provide some answers to my queries above!

pratima@ life does not come with a manual, it comes with parents, especially a mother

Slave of Habit

How I got used to the habit of attending the online Aarti of the Lord! I missed it a lot this evening. We indeed are slaves of our habits. Hence the need for a resolve of-n-through all good habits. Hence today a small little acrostic on `habits'.

How they make us their slave

As if hypnotised we do behave

But of compulsions, a mere drive

Indeed they are, our soul a beehive

That it indeed is of virtues decisive

Sure from all the bad, it would us shrive!

Let me just add a sentence why I like this acrostic and stop for the day. My acrostic uses the extremely difficult `ive' rhyme effortlessly, and manages to use two images, though not exactly offbeat, of slavery and beehive. Sure it would be easy to overcome all the evil, even when it is not born of one's own bad habit!

pratima@ the resolve born of inner strength

Adieu!

It is that day of the festival yet again. The day to bid adieu to Lord Ganesha. At our place, as per the family tradition, Ganesha leaves with his mother, Gauri. So with Gauri Visarjana, it is bidding adieu to Ganesha as well.

I do not know how to explicate it, but every year on this day, I always feel senti.  It is indeed very difficult to bid adieu to Ganesha. The hardly five to seven days, depending on the tithi's, he is with us at home, evry nook and corner of the home is filled with joy, enthusiasm, hope, Most all positivities fill the very ambience. There is a kind of abundance, an exuberance in the very air.

When he leaves with his mother, suddenly the home feels empty, and one feels lonely-n-lost. For a day or two, I even find it difficult to look at the corner where the idol was installed. To me, it looks incomplete.The sand from the riverbed or a few flowers would pitifully try to fill in  the void. But the grace of that divine existence is no longer there.  Year after year, the Ganesh Visarjan makes me feel hapless.

True, all adieus (the French expression means a dieu, to god, let god be with you) are always blue. Any final farewell makes me miserable; there is a pit in the stomach. The vague and yet certain feel of the unfathomed emptiness is intolerable.  And yet I await with hope ever renewed for the next year. It is always, `pudha chya varshi, laukar ya', come soon yet again.

The next year, too, Ganesha will arrive, and with newer blessings. But Aai would never ever be there again, nor would Papa. Life will go on. But, Oh, that touch of a vanished hand and that soft sound of a gentle soul will never ever  come back to me. Adieus are inconsolable indeed!

pratima@the final farewell brings grief /like a tsunami /     only debris in its wake /           washed away are all the shores/a loss always stinging, beyond all chores.

Echoing in the Core of the Soul

Today, the day of the fervent prayer to the Goddess, made me think about the prayers themselves. Let us begin with the prayer to Devi Saraswati. The prayer begins as a detailed description of the goddess of learning. Predominant therein is the colour white, symbolic of purity and innocence, But natural it is that the colour should be  thus associated.  With the onset of wisdom, all the internal crudities and darknesses vanish, and thus purified, we can hear the divine Veena that spellbinds all. The lotus symbol, too, signifies the mud that cannot sully the cleanliness in any way. What a prayer indeed to Devi Saraswati!

Yet another prayer to Devi is the `sarv mangal mangalye' stotra. She shows the right path to an earnest heart, says this prayer. Thus is praised the goddess who is the soul of holiness, she is the purity of the pure soul. She is `shiv' in all the meanings of the term. Hence the `namostute'. as a bowing down to the deity who is all that makes life the best, intellience, strength, bravery, in brief, all that is the best imaginable.

No wonder, it is said, she prayeth best  who prayeth repeatedly from the bottom of her being, that is the head, heart and soul!

pratima@namah tasme, namah tasme, namah tasme, namo namah!   

Yet another metaphor

 It is the festive Season, and hidden in it are interesting metaphors about relationships. Varied are these relations. At times, they celebrate the symbiosis between man and animals, between man and nature. Sometimes, however, a sweet relationship emerges, as it does right now.

Today is the arrival of the Gauri, and mythically Ganesha is her son. The belief system is that Gauri comes to our home, and that is her maternal home. I find this exhilarating.  As the man of the household, that is, Papa is her father, and Aai is her mother, I happen to be her sister, and by definition the aunt of Lord Ganesha. Now that Raju is her father, I continue to enjoy a very near and dear relationship with her and her son, Lord Ganesha. 

I find such anthropomorphism absolutely adorable. Such a symbiotic relationship  between the human and the divine makes the humdrum life truly heavenly and humane, thereby making human amelioration a definite, rather than a distant, possibility. Imagine being the sister of a goddess and the aunt of  Lord Ganesha. However brief, just three days, might be the togetherness, it is sure an enrichment. No wonder, it brings out a better version of the self.

On a deeper socio-cultural level, given the socio-economic framework rooted in agriculture, such a metaphor signifies a strong bond born of gratitude to the abundance of the bounty of nature in its post high monsoon period, a point we need to remind ourselves repeatedly in the current environmentally fragile days. The Gauri is from the riverbed and the Lord is immersed there, too, reminding us of our earthbound existence. Thus is generated a sense of fealty to nature and a realisation of our temporary stay here, thereby stressing the need to make it as meaningful and worthy as possible.

Traditions and rituals, if understood subtly like an interesting text, create their own distinct meaning making, and their own unique metaphors indeed!

Pratima@ Visiting divinity as relatives!

                 Delightful is the ambi(val)ence!!

The God of Great Things

 Most all devotees adore Ganesha. Mind you, such devotion is pan-Indian, nay, across the whole of South-Asia, one can find the veneration of Gajanana. This geographical spread itself is some proof that he is indeed the God of great things.

Everything about the Lord is grand, unique, special. He can control our entire physicality as it is defined b the Ayurveda. He is the god of IQ, EQ and SQ to put it in the contemporary terms. Like the Vishwa Rup Darshan in the eleventh chapter of the Bhagwad Geeta, he, too, is the very incarnation of incomparable luminescence.

As he is thus grand every which way, no wonder, he is the much loved lord of the lords. It is hence easily understandable why Lokmanya Tilak made the Ganapati celebration the focal point of the Freedom struggle.

My  humble  tribute hence to this omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent Lord, the lord of great things!

Pratima @ devotion is dedication

Beauty Incarnate

 Ganesh Chaturthi is indeed a special day. The Agnihotri's have a special reason why it is a unique day for the family today. But more about/of it some other time.

Right now let me explain the title of the blog today. Yes, indeed. It refers to the Lord Ganesha. I indeed like the deity despite any agnosticism. I find it very beautiful as well. First and foremost, the idol is beautiful because it symbolises the abundance of knowledge and wisdom in all its features, be it the rotund tummy or the huge ears. Yet another aspect of the Lord's beauty is that it is both `nirakar' (without any definite/pr-empted shape) and sakar (with a given visalisation). Any budding artist using any medium can depict the Lord in any mode, realistic to symbolic, and there he emerges in all his splendour and glory.

He is, moreover, wiser than the wisest. He always finds extremely sensible solutions that are beautiful in their simplicity. Remember how he completed circumambulating the entire universe in a jiffy? His solution was intelligent, wise, loving, and, most importantly, it had no cunning  or shrewdness in it.

He is so inclusive, moreover. He celebrates the largest of all the animals (he has the elephant head) and he enjoys the company of the smallest one(the mouse). All of us have been taught the significance of his small eyes (look keenly), his big ears (listen carefully) and his huge stomach(store knowledge).  The elephant, anyways, is the most intelligent, sensitive, and caring mammal that eats green despite the huge size. Ganesha, as the etymolgy of the term would suggest, is the chief of the chiefs, all the species, big to small. No wonder, everyone everywhere feels as if he is one of us, like us. Indeed beauty incarnate!

His glory is inscribed in the Atharvashirsha that Aai-Papa made us learn and recite well. It made our speech clean and beatific, like the benediction of the Lord, Ganesh, Gajanan, Ganapati.

pratima@beauty is knowledge, knowledge beauty. 

Celebrating Choice

I like the Haritalika fast a lot because it is dedicated to Devi Parvati who is the incomparable icon of a woman's choice. She is the daughter of the most powerful conduit to the Gods. Her parents want her to marry apparently Lord Vishnu, every which way the perfect husband material. Her choice is clear though. She wants a union, thereafter celebrated in each and every art, with Lord Shiva. She is ready for any hardships to get the husband of her dreams even when the whole world is against it. The others may have their opinions about him, but she is steadfast to her choice.

After a very happy marriage, she chooses to go the yadnya as her duty to her parents. When her husband is insulted, she does not take it lying down. She chooses to confront her mighty father, given the insult to her husband. Out of that conflict, she chooses to jump into the holy fire. Lord Shiva's tandava creates her shakti peetham.

In her second reincarnation as well, she is equally determined regarding her choice, She stands by it, wins him over and it is a perfect union which is celebrated as the parenthood of the entire universe by Kalidasa in the beginning of Kumarsambhavam.  Even the formation of Lord Ganesha shows her agency. Does that mean that she is a meanie, the dominating, possessive harridan? Not at all. She is love personified not only in her marriage. But even for the entire retinue of Lord Shiv, she is a dedicated mother figure. She is the destroyer  of all that is evil, too.

The perfect consort. the ideal mother figure, the trinity of buddhi, laxmi and health, Parvati is the ultimate. She is always depicted as a delicate damsel, but her all her resolves are rock solid, and she stands by them despite all the difficulties. Remembrance of Parvati is acceptance of all that is good within oneself as a woman.

pratima@the delicate strength of gentleness 

Adding life to years

Today it is September 8. It is a day dedicated to physiotherapy. As the caretaker of Aai, I know the importance of such para-medical help. A physio is indeed a very important person in the retinue of an elderly convalescent patient like Aai.

When one ages, the muscles weaken and the joints stiffen. As a result, there are numerous aches and (s)p(r)ains as the bodily posture suffers due to the inevitable process of aging. Aai-Papa, who chided us for slouching and a poor gait, themselves start shuffling and bending. A physio is a great help in such a scenario.

Physiotherapy indeed adds life to years. These micro-exercises, rooted partially in yoga like postures, make the frail old body of the elderly more elastic. So, if medicines by  a geritriac specialist add years to the elderly lives, a  para-medico like a physio makes that extended lease comfy. 

Aai had a wonderful relationship with her physio. As Rasika was Aai's physio for some eight years, she was almost like family. Aai used to wait for the session every day. Both used to chat, gossip, exchange news happily. Physiotherapy was both a physical and psychological stress buster for Aai. We used to celebrate together Diwali, Aai's birthday and Rasika's. For each Diwali, Aai insisted on me getting some gift for Rasika, as on her birthday. I could consult her at any hour  and she would come and help out regarding  Aai's health issues. We supported each other in many a contexts. No wonder, I believe absolutely in the title of the blog today.

pratima@ appreciating alleviating Aai's aches 

  

Wherefore : An acrostic after ages

Where is, oh, indeed. whither(ed) is 

 Hope, any ray, in this hapless world

 Even as earth has nothing fair to show

Rise in this wilderness bitter a row after a row

Even as armies clash while darknesses unfurled

Fear reigns supreme , a cat trots among geese

Obscenely splintered the center cannot hold

Rumble many an evil as anarchies unfold

Eagerly as I await the benedictions my childhood tales told! 

pratima@life is a tale told by a fanatic

                why, oh, why, yarns so satanic

Our very own "Mother's Day"

The last day of Shravana is known as the "Matruka Day" as well. A very interesting story it is. According to the traditional tale associated with the day, a mother prayed to the eight local deities known as Matrikas for her child's life and welfare. She was, of course, granted the boon. Hence the fast to celebrate a child' s welfare. 

I find this tale very interesting for various reasons. First and foremost, I find it indeed heart-touching that Shravana, the month of fasts and feasts, begins and ends with a prayer for child's welfare, from the jivati pooja to matrika pooja. In other words, our mother's day, whenever it arrives, celebrates a mother's love for the child rather than the child's for the mother. Most interesting is this fact! 

Equally wonderful is the notion of including the local deities in the process. It shows that our way of life is made of a respect for the immediate, the present context, that makes our existence fulfilling, human(e). Interestingly, the ritual does not include any animal sacrifice or any other cruel crudity. It is simlpy a muted prayer, and I  simply adore a lot this way of linking our very being/becoming, our very existence and the future of our next generation to the ambient universe.

It is in this context that I would like to look at the other celebration on this last day of Shravana. It is the celebration of the household pair of bullocks, the best friends of a farmer, who very strongly and quietly continue to help him even beyond death. Well, the local drums, known as "dafli", are made of the bullock's hide. As India is even today agrarian, I love this symbolic celebration of an animal central to the agricultural way of life. Like Nagpanchami, Bailpola is a touchimg tribute to the animal world that sustains our existence.

In this wider sense, too, it is the celebration of the mother feel, the feel for the welfare of all the togethernesses that make life worthy, and hence the title of the blog today!

pratima@let all be hale-n-hearty! 

Teaching the teacher to teach

Who is `the' real teacher? On September 5, this question merits a debate. Whether the person teaches you a `subject' and/or `life skills' as the hip phrase puts it, (s)he has a few qualities bunched up. Shall we discuss some of them? 

First and foremost, in the explosion of information era, a good teacher today must go beyond knowledge-ability. That is the skill students share with us, teachers, and to a much better advantage. In such a scenario, what does the teacher have as the `cutting edge' technique? Developing interpretive abilities of the students has to be the goal of the teaching/learning process. Such interpretive vision, analysis, and other such higher order `skills' (as many love the term, let us use it, too)  would be the real abilities much in demand as the digital revolution is already on us with a frightening speed. If unprepared for this new world order, it is gonna be more corrosive than the dreaded Covid.

The decade old possibility of foreign universities gettting a foothold on the native soil is very soon going to be a reality. It would be world class education that our learning must compete with. Just check the futuristic online courses, their syllabi, their course material to begin with. It IS content rich. The internet accessible/available online material as I suggested in the last paragraph of our blog yesterday is being used merely as additional reference material and/or for creative assignment possibilities. Time we go beyond the pretty PPT hype!

When can education develop a critiqueing vision, nay, not the carping criticising surely, among the students? That would be probable if teachers always remain in the learning mode, and teach with passion, dedication, and joy. Who has these heartfelt, soulful qualities in abundance when dealing with us? Our parents! No wonder, it is said that our mother is our first teacher, and our teacher is our second mother!

pratima@teaching the teacher to teach!

Master (pun intended) of the genie

It is that day of the year again, the eve of the Day Dedicated to Teachers. On September 5 at least, most all students remember their teachers/lecturers-cum-mentors. A great thing in my opinion because it proves yet again my faith that most youngsters are NOT what they are portrayed to be, callous, careless, casual.

It is against this background that I would like to open up a few issues. March 21, 2020 onwards, teaching/learning has assumed the online avataar. This version of learning actually gets the teacher virtually in the student's study room/corner. Of course, the disadvantaged students do face gargantuan problems. That issue can, at least partially, be addressed through making audio/video lectures available because televisions/radios and related electricity bills are not as daunting as a multi-media mobile and the inevitable data pack.

What I found truly distressing in the whole process, however, was the attitude to teaching and teachers. To give an instance, using Zoom/Meet/Teams for teaching takes at the most two sessions to get used to these teaching platforms, if explained with patience. One can learn the process step by step online as well. Surely, it is not rocket science or space technology. 

It was, however, made out to be something oh-so-special if one used an electronic chalk instead of the traditional white chalk and blackboard. Initially, at least, there was an almost a new cast(e), the technologically disadvantaged teachers. Such `stupid' souls were made to appear antiques. God help you if your service provider shied away from providing broadband fast enough. Did you get an earful then, betcha!

Next in this line of acquiring useful skills was facing the camera while online or while prepaing video's. Well, despite multiple takes, even an Amitabh Bachchan or a Shabana Azmi gets conscious, fumbles, forgets, fidgets in front of a camera. So why minimise a teacher's sincere efforts if there were to be a minor glitch? 

What was the much hyped online material anyways? Most often than not, it would be the ppt's made of available online materials,  a little `beautified', as the wapp sharing puts it! So pre-lecture prep was less reading up critiques, nay, even the texts! Rather, it was more about looking up app's always already available on the net and/or breaking down available info in to pretty ppt's which once prepared could be used till the syllabus changed. Content took a solid backseat pitted against  smart showmanship, indeed a great loss to the very notion of education.  

What was much worse was that the next gen, tech savvy students anyways knew all such sources, youtube videos, all sorts of app's, online guides of all varieties,charts/figures of all types, and what have you, avilable at a click at the google or some such search engine. No wonder, they chose to remain absent. For them, too, learning got reduced to downloading (like earlier xeroxing was), and no longer  a process of discussing, debating the text/the idea from multiple perspectives. 

As a result, respect for teachers nosedived, too, since they felt that a lecture (moreover, `recorded', and hence available according to their convenience beyond the bunked lecture, easier done with the video/audio muted ) was available as online material beginning from the wikipedia onwards ad infinitum. So teachers started appearing as if they were a (not always) better dressed version of the internet booth owners who downloaded all you needed in case you do not have a laptop or a p.c.of your own.  

All sorts of memes making fun of teaching/learning started floating around, and nobody felt any shame sharing them. Parents, who would attend online instead of the brat or the babe, found it convenient to mock, to take to task teachers. Teaching/learning got reduced to "money's worth" matter!

 Much worse was the online exam. Proctored or not, finding answers online was easy because surely thousand of mcq's were anyways available, and locating these/browsing through these became prep for the exam because the students were sure the final paper would sure be from such material! As there, most often, would be one more instrument accessible, writing short notes kinda assignment was also short shrift. Corona was indeed corrosive as far as education is concerned!

Am I suggesting then that online material should not be used? Sure it can/must be, but not in the classrooms as the ever ubiquitous ppt's and/or downloaded video's, et al. Instead, creative assignments based on it could be provided. Online material has to be complementary, not supplementary to actual teaching. Online lectures, too, must be explication, discussion, analysis, stuff students cannot get  downloaded. Otherwise, education, too, is sure to suffer a multi-organ failure, much worse than even a much suffering Covid patient!

pratima@alladin must be a mature `master' of the genie!  

Mother Cure!

Why should a blog dedicated to Aai be always weepy? And especially when she was herself a very jolly, happy person, right? Laughter is anyways  the mother of all cures, isn't it? Let us today discuss some mother related jokes and cartoons. 

There is this lovely one in which a son is asking his mom, "Why is the computer so smart?" Pat comes the sharp answer,"because it listens to its motherboard".In yet another one, an irritated mother is scolding the ever naughty son,"If you fall off that tree, and break both your legs, don't come running to me.' How about teaching irony thus, a mother yelling at her children "don't yell!"

There is this superb one in which scientists are watching in awe as the mothership approaches just to hear the "Eat you spinach. Why are you slouching? Stand Straight!"  In another stupendous one, King Arthur has at last found the great sword but to no avail as his mum goes,"Arthur! What have I told you about playing with sharp objects?"

How about this one? A mother is reading the daily horoscope "Your sun sign today" which says,"today your son would gladly make you breakfast in bed ...right after he wakes up around lunch time." 

A harried mother is asking her friend a panacea for waking up her lazybones son. " I just put the cat on the bed," her friend advises. "How does that help?" "Well, the dog is always there anyways." This one is indeed worth a read. "Secret to a clean house. Never let yor children enter it". 

This is real cute. "The mother firefly is always happy because her children are all so bright." How about this one? "Mom, what is it like to have the greatest daughter in the world?" "Well, I do not know. You must ask your Grandma."

The last three of the laugh f(e)ast! Mother's recipe for cold coffee : "have kids, make coffee, you will anyways have to forget you made it, drink it cold." The second one is about my favourite Dennis, the Menace, whose mum is cajoling him to eat because,"twenty years later, you are going to tell some unfortunate girl, how you adore this stuff." The last and surely not the least one. "My daughter asked me to do the 'in' thing, to get the names of my kids tattoed on my body. I told her I already have done it, and thrice. They are called stretch marks."

pratima@cheer is the child of chuckle

Heart has reasons

Yesterday we were talking about brands, right? Advetising plays a huge part in a brand creation. Most often, it is quite crass. Sometimes, the ad-n-brand equation can be a bit sensitive, too.

Saw this ad of Dominoo's pizza. Quite some narrative it was. A son leaves a mother at an old age home where the only thing she thinks of, talks of, is the son, his habits, his days. At the old age home, she earns a little money, sewing kurtis,  and spends it all ordering a pizza for the son because he loves cheese pizza. Undoubtedly sweet!

Yet one wondered if old age homes are indeed necessary? I for one had decided that come what may, Aai would never go to an old age home. Sure it used to be truly tough. Indeed, the mavashi, that is, the female ayah, used to be of the Putna variety. However impossible the situation could be, my decision was firm. In her last illness, her geriatric specialist tried his level best, real hard, to convinve me to send her to the old age home. In fact, he was plain irritated with me for not agreeing to send her to an old age home. He has mentioned it in capitals in the hospital release certificate.

My argument was that she spent a lifetime in nothing but just caring for her family, her children. There was no way she would spend whatever could be her remaining days in any place but her home. Tried to literally recreate as many of the hospital facilities as much and as fast as possible. True, illness is extremely difficult to bear when one is old, fragile, bedridden with many co-morbidities. Why then compound the physical pain with the heavy interest rate of a psychological hurt?

Well, are old age homes  indeed necessary? Would discuss it some other time. What is your opinion? Are old age homes inevitable? Well, the fun is I do not mind a hospice or an old age home for myself when I would be her age, but I could not imagine one for her or for Papa! Heart has reasons the head knows nothing of! 

pratima@ Yeh dil hai ke manata nahin!

  

Days!

'Days' are common these days. Every Day, there is some Day or the Other. Today it is the Day of nutrition, it seems.

Nutrition has ever been the concern of mothers. While narrating nutrition, often nature is so quoted because even before the baby's birth, it is the mother who feeds the baby. Now, however, nutrition is not merely 'natural' in any sense of the term. 

Market forces have overtaken every aspect of our life, including nutrition. If you were to remember how certain famous 'celebrity' pregnancies were presented in the media during the Corona, we realise that these were ploys to commodify certain 'stars' during the non-peak era, their personal lives, their exercise regimes, their special gowns, and, finally, their books based on these 'paid' experiences. 

Not mere entertainment value the entire process had nor  mere 'pass time' pastime/hobby of sophisticated gossip-mongering it was! After all this circus, they chose to hide the baby from the public glare! And, fans (who has so much time to keep an eye on others' privileged lives?)  keep on chasing them for a glimpse, it seems. Wonders never cease indeed!

Days help in such 'brand' creation. Remember how the much touted 'private ceremony' celeb marriages have huge photo leaks that set the marriage ma(r)k(et)ing that season. At times, photo shoots of such celeb marriages have rights/rites auctioned! It could be the venue that is getting publicity as well! 'Trend' indeed!

In such a PR wor(l)d, where publicity/public glare alone matters, in a way, the days seem to focus on the affective areas of the 'modern' (wo)man. Otherwise, such affective aspects may get washed away in the flood of multiple quotients, eq, sq, and what have you. Children , for example, are forced to remember affectionately "Ma" and "Pa"at least on the respective days, right? The 'show' indeed must go on!

These examples I have analysed in some detail may prove that such commodification suits the MNC's, too. The MNC's and the TNC's use such Media Blitz to sell their products. In the process are obfuscated genuine issues. 

Am I being a kill-joy? No, not at all. I feel instead of the momentary glimmer and glitter of a 'day' dedicated to a carve out convenient(ly) portion of our existences, we should sensitively and sensibly create our lives. No 'influencers', 'image makers' would thus be needed for any 'curated' 'make over'. Our selves would then be beyond sale!

Pratima@Thank God, Aai-Papa were not ad-deal! They were i-deal!And that has made all the difference, and forever  n for better!